


A New Game, A Different Game

by cherryberg



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Clouds, Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Curses, Games, Noah's Ark (mentioned), Post-Canon, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Swearing, theres only like one swear word so far
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 10:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20722586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryberg/pseuds/cherryberg
Summary: Crowley had always been in an almost endless, nearly ineffable game with God. This changes when the Apocalypse-That-Never-Was didn't exactly go to plan and the sky goes grey.





	A New Game, A Different Game

Crowley had always been in an almost endless, nearly ineffable game with God, one of which could be compared to that of tug of war, or chicken, or Pokemon, or all three, perhaps. It had become a silent competition for the two of them, one that they weren’t aware they were involved in or even started before it had become too late. Of course, both were naturally competitive people who weren’t willing to go down without a fight. The main goal, and the driving force, was ‘Whoever Ticks The Other Off Most Won’. Eventually, it evolved to have a subcategory of ‘Bonus Points Go To The Boldest/Most Dramatic’.

Crowley was the one to start it back when he was still an angel. It began when he started asking questions, too many questions actually. Apparently, he “wasn’t aware that They had limit on questions” and so, the first strike made back was, Crowley finding himself sauntering downward to newly-born Hell. It just so happened that Falling would make you a demon, who knew? Crowley became quite a wily one, a slithering menace, a demon who would willingly poke a stick at a bear for the sole reason to agitate it. So when a position on Earth opened up, Crowley found himself to be the first in line. The closest way to get God pissed was to mess with Their creation after all.

God had watched the Serpent create morality and invent sin in the hearts of both Their first humans, Adam and Eve, but also the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. Believe Them, They were furious and, yet, somehow impressed. Crowley was able to get past, and charm, Heaven’s best angel and avoid Their both greatest and coolest weapon. God would’ve just let it be but They heard the great commotion from Their angels and all the complaining ramblings from the Archangel Gabriel, who always seemed to think that Archangels had the privilege to enter without knocking, if They did have a physical place of work to begin with. God had to think of something and They had to do it quick.

Then it had then struck Them.

God was going to get Crowley something he already owned, assuming the hellhounds hadn’t gotten to them. The thing was that angels don’t actually care all that much for demons nor do they care enough to seek knowledge about them. Demons, in the eyes of most angels, were just some bad reputation, a reputation that they could easily earn back. Because they don’t remember and don’t care to, demons were the dirt under their feet.

God had decided. They were to give Crowley something. Not a second chance, no. This was much better.

God gave Crowley a pair of _legs_.

Legs that Crowley could not use for the life of him.

Well, God didn’t so much give him the legs, They would _never_ give out another pair. Of course, They had tried before, with Their first person, but a four-legged human form did not look all that great. No, what they did was curse Crowley’s pre-existing legs that came with his assigned body just a teensy-tiny bit. A celestial such as Themself could get in a lot of trouble for cursing someone, even if they were a demon, but, since there were no other celestial like Them, it was easy to get away with it. That’s what made it so hard, the fact that They could get away with it. Nonetheless, Crowley’s style of walking, one he had gotten used to over the years, would always provide Them with a good chuckle when They needed it.

Though he would learn later in life how to roll with it, and to even own it, Crowley was not at all pleased with his legs. He wanted to get back at Them. After seeing what God’s people could do, creating means of transport and such, Crowley had found himself staring at a shining beaute. A not-yet-vintage Bentley. Black and sleek. Crowley was utterly smitten and had miracled himself enough money to buy it. This was, in one sense, a big middle finger to God for cursing him,why walk when you can drive? For years, Crowley had loved his car and, for years, he had been protecting it from prying eyes of Upstairs.

God knew to never touch the thing, watching how much Crowley favoured it. God didn’t like the Bentley all that much but They still added it to the list of things never to harm under Crowley’s name. Their external opinion on it was a simple mild irritation but, deep down, for whatever reason, They _hated_ it. Shortly after Crowley got into his new car did God understand why. Crowley drove fast, Crowley drove carelessly, Crowley drove through London like a manic and threatened to plough through anyone who got in his way. God hated the Bentley and They could _not. touch. it._

And so the game went on over the years, rules were eventually silently established when God had realised that They may have gone a bit too far with the Fall and Crowley realised that he shouldn’t test Them as much when They flooded the place. They both continued on refusing to give in or crack under the pressure, even if they did at times but they were too stubborn of beings to actually admit it.

The game still played out over centuries and centuries of shenanigans, and, as Armageddon inched closer, they became ballsier. More comebacks, more theatrics. Not much to lose when the end of the world is so very close and when the other could fit in a final hurrah before the war. So God took Hell’s greatest invention, an invention by Crowley that had driven so many of Them people to Hell, and set it aflame. Observing Crowley for over 6 millennia had Them predicting Crowley’s next move. They knew Crowley, They knew he would, under the world-saving request of one of Their more roguish angels, would drive straight through it. This then allowed the Bentley to, one, become ablaze and, two, explode. God allowed this. The end of days was around the corner and the first item on the “Do Not Touch - Crowley’s” list, Aziraphale himself, was already gone.

They both had been feeling like shit the whole week of the coming apocalypse, really. They both felt shit during the coming of the apocalypse but only one of them had bothered to actually do something about it. That one just so happened to be a demon with way too big an ego instead of the all-powerful being of light.

God didn’t really understand it all that well. Why save the Earth? Yes, They loved it and, yes, They loved all Their creatures but, times have changed and they must end after all. It was time to let go. God believed Crowley's motive was to somehow get his car back or to get the approval of Aziraphale but those theories of Theirs had only reached dead ends, so why? While on the other line, Crowley had wondered why God wasn’t helping, why They weren’t doing anything. He prayed and he cursed, knowing They were listening to it all. He doubted when he hadn’t got his answer, his sign, his anything. He knew not to test God anymore.

Without spite, Crowley helped to put an end to Armageddon.

Time passed, weeks eventually turned into months, and Crowley hadn’t heard anything back from Them. Sure, the game took plenty of time to plan but he knew God enough to know planning was an easy task for Them. Crowley had but three assumptions. One, God had realised that They could not outdo stopping an apocalypse, therefore, forfeiting and giving the crown over to Crowley. Two, God was planning something, planning something big. Something that needed all this time to plan for. The last one, three, was Crowley’s least favourite but most possible. Something had happened to God and it was his fault. There was a lot of evidence to back this claim. The clouds. Dark, grey clouds. They had slowly started to take shape below the once-blue skies, threatening to drop buckets of rain and lightning. Very, very frightening. Even Tadfield, a village where the perfect weather was controlled by an all-powerful eleven-year-old, was clouded over. Crowley began to worry dearly, the last time it had clouded this much was when the horned horse went extinct. He hated when that had happened. Was God trying to get him back like this?

“Angel!” Crowley barged into the bookshop with a cry. “We have a problem!”

“Yes. Yes, I have rather noticed.” Aziraphale hummed, placing the first-editions back onto their respective shelves from when unwanted customers had got a hold of them. He remembered the last time the sky was this dark, not as well as Crowley had but well enough to know what was to happen next. “The clouds have turned--”

“The clouds, yes.” Crowley interrupted, his heart thumping rapidly against his rib cage. “I think it has to do with me.”

Aziraphale paused for a moment, various versions of stammered “no” and “of course not” slipping from his lips, simply to stall. He was finding a reason for it _NOT_ to be Crowley’s fault, it couldn’t have been. He knew how badly Crowley reacted to the flood and how, if he could’ve stopped it from happening, he would’ve. A grey sky would _never_ be the act of Crowley's, no matter how mischevious.

“The weather bends to the will of only two people, my dear, and one of them lives in Hogback Lane, Tadfield. And I hardly doubt he’d do this.” Aziraphale smiled, hiding his nervosity behind facts. Crowley couldn’t possibly be the one who had done this. “I’m sure it’s just the London weather.”

“I don’t mean Adam, angel.” Crowley squeaked, head retracting into the comfort of lanky body.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale responded in disbelief. “Crowley, you didn’t.”

“I did.” Crowley gulped. “I think I’ve sent God into a spell.”


End file.
